Traveling Through

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Soft disturbances by a welcome breeze
have woken me - along with crept daylight -
as my room's weighted curtains dance .../


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Rotarians

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I am not that someone who revels in hate Her look at the bar left me cold-eye weighed Poor Phil-the-farmer could not match my smile as Val took her drink leaving her stare to scythe Those Witches of Newick have stirred their dark brew – they sweat its rank scent – a mephitic perfume I...


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The Present

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

This moment, at ten-thirty,
his present is wrapped,
and I am sat sweating,
bloated after breakfast..


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